


Juncture

by tastethewaste



Series: Breach [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Belly Kink, Belly Rubs, Body Image, Chubby Draco Malfoy, Chubby Harry Potter, Established Relationship, Food Kink, Food Porn, M/M, Sequel, Weight Gain, and feed each other, fat Draco Malfoy, honestly they're both going to be fat, leave me alone lol, sequel to Breach
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-06
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2020-04-11 12:34:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19109767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastethewaste/pseuds/tastethewaste
Summary: Sequel to Breach. Draco is starting to get a bit pudgy and decides to see where this could go...





	1. Trying new things

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't quit these two. This is the sequel to Breach! Not sure how many chapters I'm in this one for. I do know there'll be some fat Draco in here if you wait though...
> 
> If weight gain kink isn't your thing, you won't enjoy this. If you haven't read the first part in this series, please check it out first if you feel like it. 
> 
> Thanks guys! :)

Draco Malfoy had shunned almost every feasible trait that had been passed down to him from his parents. 

He’d learned to give and receive affection, as hard as it had been. He’d shucked (most) of the toxic sense of pride and superiority that they’d bestowed upon him. He lived his life the complete opposite of the way Lucius and Narcissa had imagined for their son. He shared a home with his boyfriend, Harry Potter, and occasionally with Potter’s three children. He fed Harry fattening foods and fucked him all night. He was a Healer, not a Ministry official.He had even shoved aside their politics and crude language; he hadn’t used the word ‘mudblood’ since third year and he swore to never own a house elf. If Lucius and Narcissa were still alive, they’d no doubt no longer be on speaking terms with their only son, and were probably rolling in their graves at this precise moment. 

The only thing, Draco realized as he stared at himself in the bathroom mirror, that he had been unable to scrub from his upbringing, the only thing that had taken true hold in his brain and lodged there, was the high worth that had placed on his own body image. Draco’s parents had fed their son only lean meats and vegetables; most food was bland and healthy; they had instilled in him from a very young age that “ _Malfoys don’t get fat.”_

He could still recall the first time his mother had made that clear to young Draco. He had been at his third cousin’s wedding, and about to chow down on an oft-forbidden piece of cake. His mother had snatched the plate away and dumped the cake in the trash while Draco wailed. She had yanked him into a room and told him to “cease that crying this _instant_.” As soon as Draco had stopped crying, she kneeled in front of him and said softly, “Sweets aren’t good for you, Draco. Sweets make you Fat. You don’t want to be Fat, do you, darling?” In this memory, the way she said ‘fat’ had a distinct capital F sound to it. She’d patted his slightly rounded stomach, his body at the time made of little more than strong legs from playing outside and baby fat, and led him back to the party. 

He’d been just shy of four years old. 

The side effect of his parents’ constant admonishments of his figure and eating habits was an adult Draco who watched every bite that went into his mouth. For all of Draco’s life, he had held to that sentiment. He had survived on chicken, fish and salad; he had exercised rigorously six times a week; he went for the occasional runs on his lunch break. He maintained a slim physique and possessed a body that was enviable to the growing number of fat Wizards in the area. 

The other side effect was that he could only bring himself to shag blokes of size. Draco hadn’t shagged a man who weighed less than 200 pounds since he had been at Hogwarts. There was something about a man with a belly and a fat arse that really just did it for Draco. 

He remembered the first fat boy he’d fucked. 

His name had been Max, and they’d been in a pre-med class on Wizard Anatomy together. It was the autumn after his graduation from Hogwarts, and Draco had been going through a dry spell in the romance department for more than a year. Nothing had felt right, immediately after the War, and he’d been too focused on his future. He hadn’t intended on falling for anyone, instead choosing to focus on his first post-secondary classes. And then Max had walked into the classroom. 

Compared to Potter, Max had been downright small, tipping the scales at around 210 pounds. He had a small, flabby paunch, generous love handles, and an arse that practically announced itself. As nice as those were to look at, the thing that made Max a must-have on Draco’s wish list was the way his clothes fit. 

Max was wearing a Puddlemere United polo shirt that might’ve fit him at one point. At present, it clung to his tummy and refused to go down all the way, riding up just slightly and exposing the lower part of his belly. His jeans were so tight at the waist that his tummy drooped down, accentuating the fat at his waistline instead of hiding it. Draco almost laughed aloud at how comically tight the pants were across his rear. It was a wonder, really, that the boy’s arse hadn’t split the seams. _He’ll make a great bottom,_ Draco thought evilly as he looked at his thick rear end. 

Max’s body had spoken of a sedentary summer, of three months of couch lounging and channel surfing and snack munching. It spoke of a mother spoiling her little boy before he moved away, preparing his favorite foods in bulk until her precious angel couldn’t button his pants. His clothes said that Max hadn’t always been this size, and Draco had to have a bite of it.

Max was sweet and kind. His belly was soft and chubby and Draco was mad about him. They’d fucked for six months off and on until Max found a full-time boyfriend who would commit to him like Draco wouldn’t. Their breakup was messy and when they ran into each other a year-and-a-half later, Draco was disappointed to see that Max’d lost a significant amount of weight, and looked to be some sort of fitness guru. 

As the years went by, he went for larger and larger men, yet none of them had turned into lasting, fulfilling relationships the way they had with Potter. Draco could only presume it was because of the feeding relationship. He had a natural, innate desire to grow Potter, to feed Potter heavy, rich foods and then fuck the living daylights out of him. He needed to shovel food into that huge gob of his and then lick the remains from his lips. He needed to see Potter’s stomach get bigger, see him outgrow his clothes, see the number on the scale creep up. Of course they had slowed this part of their relationship considerably-Potter’s health was still of utmost important, naturally-but they still played, and ate, and fucked. They had a normal life together, and in the evenings and occasional weekends their lives were overcome by this unspoken yet visible kink they shared. Very slowly, Potter grew. 

And, Draco was realizing as he peered at his own body in the mirror, it appeared that Potter hadn’t been the only one growing. 

He, Draco Lucius Malfoy, was getting fat. This fact had been pointed out to him the night prior by his lover, Harry announcing it with little fanfare and disregard as they put the dishes away, as if it wasn’t the dismantling of part of Draco’s psyche.

Now, while Harry had gone to return the children to their mother, Draco had locked himself in their bathroom to survey the damage. 

His once perfectly flat, muscular abdomen was now covered in a thick layer of fat, enough to pinch. He did so, and grimaced at the way his flesh stretched out. He turned to the side and observed the way his stomach stuck out, just slightly. He could find nothing in the way of a double chin or a sign on any other part of his body; just his stomach had decided to betray him thus far, it seemed. Against his better judgment, he stepped onto the bathroom scale in the corner. The dial spun slightly, and landed on 196. His fighting weight his whole life had been 170. Had he really gained almost thirty pounds? Did he really weigh almost 200 pounds? 

What he had couldn’t rightfully be called a belly just _yet_ , he supposed. It didn’t bulge, or sag, or anything of the sort. But it would soon, he reasoned. He was already starting to round out, and he supposed another ten pounds would do it. 

He had told Harry that it might not be so bad, his gaining weight. He might even enjoy it, and he supposed that could be true. It was just so _hard_ , imagining letting himself go after all the time. And on purpose, no less. This weight had crept on, slowly, over a couple of years, and without trying. Was he supposed to just gorge himself until he ballooned like Harry? He imagined his body, cocooned in blubber, round and obese. He imagined a belly on his frame, first just round, then bloated, then sagging down. He imagined bursting buttons, splitting pants, ripping shirts. Could he allow himself to do this? 

In the end, as it did so often, his cock answered the question. While he’d imagined this bloated version of himself, his cock had arrived and reported for duty, growing rock hard. He didn’t bother putting his shirt back on as he left the bathroom. 

He would try this, this different version of the body he’d known his whole life. 

He found himself in the kitchen, hunting through the fridge, when he heard Harry’s key slide home in the lock. He’d already pulled out some leftover pizza and placed them on the counter next to a pan of brownies he’d baked with the children earlier. Harry sauntered into the kitchen as Draco sank his teeth into the first slice of pizza. 

“What’s up?” Harry asked, taking in the scene with a playful grin on his face. 

“Been thinking,” Draco mumbled around a mouthful of food, swallowing. “I’ve been thinking that maybe...maybe it’s my turn, y’know?” He said cautiously. 

“Your turn for what?” Harry asked nonchalantly. “For this?” He took the piece of pizza from Draco’s hand and brought it to Draco’s lips; he took a large bite and nodded. 

“I’m hungry, Harry,” Draco muttered, sliding a hand onto his thickened tummy and using his other free hand to grab Harry’s and place it there also. 

“Then you better eat up,” Harry said, bringing the pizza to Draco’s lips.


	2. Lack of control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and Draco explore this new dynamic, and Draco reflects on what these changes mean.

Five minutes later, Harry had moved them to the spacious sofa in the living room and set Draco’s treats up easily within reach. He settled Draco down comfortably, his head supported by pillows. As he fed his lover, Harry stroked Draco’s middle lovingly. Harry liked the way Draco’s tummy felt underneath his fingers, so different from his own. It was so small in comparison to his own belly. 

“You’ve already eaten dinner, and you’re still going...I’m impressed,” Harry said lightly, bringing the fourth slice of pizza to Draco’s mouth. “Never thought I’d see the day.” 

Draco breathed heavily. His food intake had ticked up the more he and Harry had played together, but this was beyond what he was used to. He was _full_ , and yet, that was the fun. “More,” he said, opening his mouth and accepting another bite. 

With dinner and five pieces of pizza down the hatch, Draco’s tummy was round and bloated. He struggled to adjust himself on the pillows behind him, feeling like he weighed a thousand pounds. “You look positively porky, Draco. Time for dessert,” Harry said, dropping a kiss onto Draco’s lips. 

“Dunno if I can…” Draco murmured, his eyes half-closed, unused to the sheer volume of food expanding his stomach. 

“These brownies won’t eat themselves,” Harry said, pulling the pan closer. “Come on, for me? Please?” 

Draco smiled sleepily. “ _Fine_ , but first things first,” he said, and reached down to his pants. He undid the button on his pants, which had gotten painfully tight over the last half hour. He sighed with relief as his tiny pot belly flowed outward with the absence of its restriction. He rubbed his belly. 

“You read my mind,” Harry murmured, yanking off Draco’s underwear as well and taking the first moist brownie in his hands and bringing it to Draco’s lips. “You must eat all of these,” Harry said firmly with fake assertion. Their roles were usually reversed in this situation. He was used to eating, not feeding, and he was used to being controlled, not doing the controlling. He knew Draco was thinking the same thing, if the smirk on his face meant anything at all. 

Draco sank his teeth into the chocolatey brownie, chewed, and swallowed. He repeated the process, moving even slower than he had with the pizza. Halfway through his third brownie, Draco looked down. _Merlin, I’m full,_ he thought in a soft haze. Harry shoved in some more and then suddenly he was on Draco, kissing him, grabbing at his middle.

“You like this?” Harry growled, a devilish smile on his face as he pushed himself into Draco insistently. He was so full, but _fuck_ , the feeling of all of Harry’s weight, the enormity of his bulk, feeling him lower his entire fucking _gut_ on top of Draco, was almost too much for him to bear. His cock was rock hard, and before he knew it Harry had moved south and taken control. 

Draco moaned and arched his back as Harry took his cock in his mouth. The first time Harry had given him a blowjob, Draco had been silently surprised at how _good_ he was at it, for someone who claimed to only have innocently kissed a boy before. He was good enough to make Draco want to ask questions, but he had restrained himself. He had to restrain himself again as Harry sucked him off in earnest. 

As Draco was about to come, Harry stopped and he moaned again. “Please,” he whispered urgently, tangling his fingers in Harry’s hair, and Harry began to lick a trail starting at his belly button and moving down lower.

“Tell me you want to get fat for me, baby, and I’ll keep going,” Harry said. “Just tell me all about how big you want to get.”

“I wanna be your fat pig!” Draco squealed, his hips bucking as Harry took his cock in his mouth again. “I want to outgrow all my clothes and I want to eat so much that I can’t move,” Draco yelped, goosebumps peppering his skin, unable to think of anything but the waves of pleasure coursing through his blood. He paused for a moment, unable to speak, finally recovering enough to blurt out more. “I want my belly to be as big as yours, bigger, so b-big that it gets in the way when we _t-touch,_ ” Draco stuttered as his cock shot off in Harry’s mouth. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“We should’ve done this in bed,” Harry muttered under his breath as he tried to lay beside Draco and hold him. The couch was simply too narrow, or the men atop it too large, to accomplish the task. Harry adjusted himself as best as he could, but grew frustrated quickly as his belly prevented him from getting comfortable. 

“I need a shower anyways. You okay?” Harry asked, stroking Draco’s face lovingly. 

“I’m good,” Draco said, scooting over as far as he could. He watched with a wry grin on his face as Harry heaved himself to his feet, stumbling a bit as he righted himself. Watching Harry as he learned to navigate the world with his increased girth had been one of the more fun aspects of growing his lover. It was something one normally wouldn’t give much thought to in the realm of weight gain, which was part of what made it so hot for Draco. Harry’s widened hips brushed the doorframes, his fat arse nudged knick knacks off the coffee table, his thick gut threatened to tip him over when he stood up too quickly, like a pregnant witch. Draco had had to stop himself multiple times from ravaging Harry before work or on the way out the door with the kids, simply because he’d underestimated the amount of space his fat body needed to squeeze between the kitchen table and the wall. 

These were the unspoken things that wracked Draco’s mind on a daily basis. It was a strange world they occupied together, sometimes.

“You enjoyed that a little too much,” Harry said with mock annoyance after he stood up, then kissed Draco before shedding the rest of his clothes and padding out of the living room. His gut bounced as he walked. 

Draco laid on the couch for a few moments more, listening as the water in the master bath started up. He suddenly felt inexplicably vulnerable, his naked body feeling sticky and full and queasy and _vivid_. He felt as though he’d blended in his whole life and now he would stick out. He felt disconnected from himself and yet, at the same time, he felt so very present. He didn’t know what was going on, or why he was feeling this way.

He’d meant every word when he’d been with Harry. It had felt so good to stuff himself with food, to be on the opposite side of his relationship with Harry. But it also meant relinquishing some control, which was hard for him. Harder than he had ever imagined it would be. 

He got up suddenly and made his way to the master bath, where he snuck in and joined Harry in the shower. “Hello, my love,” he said, slipping his arms around Harry’s pudgy waist and joining their bodies together. As the warm water sluiced down their bodies, their mouths met, tongues tied, teeth clashed. He felt grounded again.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Draco's body changes.

The last couple of months had been hectic, even more so than normal. It seemed like every weekend was either taken up with the children, birthday parties, family get-togethers or work functions. Draco had spent an entire week abroad in the States at a convention with American Medi-Wizards, and Harry had then spent the following week on a trip for the Aurors, assisting in the setup of a new office across the country. Their paths barely crossed, despite living in the same house, between their work schedules and social engagements. They’d spent too many nights apart the past two months, sleeping in separate beds, eating separate meals and yearning for each other.

An unfortunate side effect of this, of course, was that they had had absolutely no time to further explore the process of growing Draco. The upside, however, seemed to be that Draco had been far too distracted to even attempt to eat healthfully, and had inadvertently done a little growing of his own. 

After their first stuffing session that night, Draco had been clear and firm in his parameters for their little arrangement. The morning after, he had woken with Harry’s hand on his tummy, and he had known that he had to clarify his position. 

“I want to gain weight, I just...don’t know if I want it all to be as fast as it was for you. Or, truthfully, as much,” Draco had said nervously, chewing on his bottom lip. 

Harry had frowned. “Last night you said…” 

“Oh, love, your mouth was on my cock. I’d have agreed to a threesome with Weasley if you’d have kept sucking me off.” 

Harry had just blinked at him, unable to find an argument within him because he knew that he’d likely do the same thing. 

“And I do want to get bigger for you, but...let’s just see where it goes. I have a lot of weird hangups about food and weight from my bloody parents, and this might not be as easy as I thought it would be. I still want to be relatively healthy, and I’ve a career to consider, too. I make a living helping people lose weight, how might it look if portly old me was the one giving the advice?” Draco had stroked Harry’s thigh. “Let’s just see what happens.”

“I want what you want, Dray. I’m here no matter what,” Harry had said simply, and the matter had been settled. Their arrangement would be up in the air when it came to Draco, and Harry was okay with it. He had to hope that there would be more food and fuck in their future. He had no choice, really, but to hope. And the last two months had left them too breathlessly busy to think about the widening of the Malfoy. 

So when Draco emerged from their bedroom one Sunday afternoon, their first free Sunday in many moons, looking rumpled and sleepy and positively _chubby_ , Harry couldn’t deny the ripple of joy that pulsed through him.

“Oh, I _love_ this,” Harry said as Draco stumbled into the living room, scratching himself and yawning. 

“Love what?” he asked grumpily. Naps did nothing to rejuvenate Draco, they simply made him more agitated than normal.

Harry was admiring Draco from his spot on the sofa, his eyes scanning his boyfriend’s body while an evil smile played on his lips. Draco was wearing a pair of sweatpants that still fit, but just barely. They hugged his hips and accentuated a tiny roll of fat that had sprouted there. The grey t-shirt he was wearing was simply too small. He looked like a sausage stuffed into a casing, and it outlined his belly button. Harry struggled to his feet and then made his way over to him, wrapping his arms around Draco’s waist, unable to resist the temptation of feeling his lover’s body pressed against his. 

“You officially have a belly, my love,” Harry whispered in Draco’s ear, bringing his hand from around the back and sinking a finger into it. It reminded Harry of their second encounter in the office, when Draco had sunk his finger into the spot where he’d dripped chocolate on his shirt. It did the same for Draco, who closed his eyes as the simple gesture sent a shock through his body. 

It was true. Draco Malfoy was now the proud owner of his own belly. He could no longer consider himself merely thickened or pudgy. This belly of his was still small enough that it didn’t sag. It was just there, small and unassuming, something you might not pay much attention to if you saw Draco dressed smartly in a suit or his robes. But it was there, and it hadn’t been a couple of months ago. Harry reached underneath Draco’s tight shirt and stroked it. It was soft and flabby, and it jiggled as Harry fiddled with it. 

“Is it...to your liking?” Draco asked snarkily, and Harry answered with a deep kiss. 

“It’s perfect,” he murmured, moving his lips down, nibbling on Draco’s neck. Draco’s breath started to come quicker, responding to the kisses that were being lavished upon him. He relaxed his belly so it stuck out as far as it could. Harry moved his hand down further, slipping it inside of Draco’s tight sweatpants. 

“I guess I haven’t been eating very well lately...these last couple of months have been crazy,” Draco said in a low voice. “My clothes have felt a bit tighter lately.” 

“Is it okay with you?” Harry said quietly into Draco’s neck, pausing briefly before resuming his kisses. 

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’s great,” Draco said. “I told you I was okay with whatever happens. Feels a bit weird.” 

Harry stepped back and admired Draco again. “God, you look fucking _amazing_ , Draco, seriously,” Harry said before pushing Draco up against the wall. Harry ground his cock into Draco’s leg, and Draco sank his fingers into Harry’s own belly. 

They were silent as Harry frotted against Draco, their act harkening back to the early days when there had been nothing more between them than an exam room and a rapidly-plumpening married Harry. It was sentimental and hot and just a little sad, just a touch of melancholy and nostalgia peppered in between the grunts and the moans. Draco reached down and started to jerk Harry off, both of them rock hard and ready to come. 

When they were done they were both sweaty and sticky, and breathing heavily. They stared at each other, a distinct gleam in both mens’ eyes. For a moment, neither of them knew what to say. They had a large, empty house at their disposal, a huge comfortable bed, and they’d chosen to jerk each other off against the wall in the living room, like a couple of teenagers. Neither of them could pinpoint why it had happened that way; why their first sexual encounter with Draco’s newly formed belly, a belly that he’d grown on accident over a stressful two month period, had been so immature. 

Finally, after a few moments, Draco knew what to say. “Feed me a snack,” he whispered.

“What?” 

“Take me to bed and feed me a snack. Please,” Draco said simply, and the gleam in Harry’s eye changed from one of confusion to one of intrigue. “Unless...you don’t want to.” 

“Anything for you, baby,” Harry said, relief washing over him. Draco took his hand and dragged his lover to their bedroom, intent on using this afternoon for more than youthful indiscretions.


	4. Chapter 4

Draco led Harry to their bedroom, their fingers twined together, and stopped just short of climbing in bed. Draco turned and faced Harry, and his tight t-shirt was riding up just a bit, and despite the fact that they’d both just gotten one off, Harry’s mouth still went dry at the sight of that tiny but ever-so-present tummy sticking out. 

“I never thought I’d see the day but...Draco Malfoy, you are  _ chubby _ ,” Harry whispered, reaching out and pinching an inch of belly fat that was hanging shamelessly out of Draco’s shirt. Draco, still unused to the idea of his body being this way and of being so  _ observable _ , felt his cheeks flush. Harry kissed Draco then, hard, and Draco answered back eagerly. When they pulled apart, they were both flushed, their hair mussed and their palms sweaty and their breath both coming in hitched, desperate gasps.

For just a moment, they stared at each other, jade green eyes meeting ice blue, and Harry kissed Draco softly again. “Dray…” 

Draco buried his face into the soft padding of Harry’s chest. “Yeah?” he murmured. 

Harry tilted Draco’s chin up so their eyes met again. “I want to feed you, Draco,” Harry said, his voice soft and husky (much like the rest of him). “I don’t want this to be a snack, to be cold pizza on our narrow sofa.” 

Draco raised one eyebrow quizzically, remembering the first time Harry had fed him, remembered soft hands in his squishy stomach, remembered that feeling of fullness. 

“I want to lay you in our bed and feed you until your stomach is huge and round. I want to feed you until these pants are digging in to you even more and this shirt rips. I want you to have to  _ beg _ me to stop,” Harry said, nibbling gently on the soft skin of Draco’s neck. Draco’s back arched, his cock already starting to pay attention. 

“Feed me, then,” Draco said softly into Harry’s ear. Harry took his hand and helped Draco gently into their king-sized bed, rearranged the pillows behind his head. 

“Comfortable?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded. “Good. Won’t be for long,” Harry said with an impish grin on his face. Draco chuckled and shook his head. He wasn’t used to Harry being the one in charge, but the idea of letting himself go-letting his  _ control _ go- and letting Harry shove food into him was an exciting type of fear to have. And, as time would tell, Harry had been practicing this side of him, or at least fine-tuning it. 

The first plate of food that Harry brought in was a big bowl of macaroni and cheese, full to the brim and full of extra cheese. It was as much as they made to feed the two of them and the kids when they were over. Draco eyed it with slight concern. “You don’t move. You eat what I give you. Understood?” He was firmer than he’d ever been, and it made Draco’s heart beat quicker in his chest. He nodded. Harry climbed into the bed next to him, attempting to settle down easily but finding it difficult to balance the food and keep himself balanced next to Draco. His stomach heaved as he fought to scootch himself close enough to Draco to actually feed him, and he breathed a little heavier with the effort. 

“Looks like your belly’s in the way a bit, eh, tubby?” Draco teased a little, and Harry chuckled. Harry slapped his own gut and rubbed it a bit. 

“Hey, be nice! I actually lost ten pounds while we were apart, I’ll have you know. And you didn’t even notice my lithe figure,” he said, mock disapprovingly. “Now, open up.” 

Draco opened his mouth obediently. The first spoonful of macaroni went in, quickly followed by the next. Ten minutes later, the whole bowl was gone and Draco licked the cheese off of his lips. “That was delicious. More?” 

Harry came back with a plate of sandwiches, four of them, stuffed with meats and cheese and dripping with mayo. He fed them all to Draco, bite after bite. Halfway through, a blob of mayo had smeared on the outside of Draco’s lip, and he reached up to wipe it off. 

“Did I say you could move?” Harry asked harshly, and Draco dropped his hands to his side. Harry leaned forward and licked it off, kissing him roughly after he did it. After the sandwiches was a gallon of ice cream, slightly melty from sitting on the counter. It was messy as Harry spooned it into Draco, dripping on his shirt, joining the tiny crumbs of bread, mayo and macaroni and cheese that had found their way on there during the meal as well. His mouth was smeared with the ice cream as well, and this time, Harry didn’t bother licking it off. 

When he was done feeding him the ice cream, Draco was visibly uncomfortable. His belly was round, as though he’d attached a basketball to his middle, and packed tight. It trembled as he breathed in and out, shallowly, painfully. His face and shirt were covered in food, and, without meaning to, a small whimper escaped his mouth. “I’m so full, Harry,” he said quietly. 

“Oh, darling, we’re not done yet,” Harry said, almost flippantly, almost as if he didn’t have a care. Draco whined again, but this time it was full of want, full of need. Harry raised his wand and with a flick of his wrist, a small platter wafted over to them. It was piled high with six donuts, heavy ones covered in chocolate and filled with thick creme, and Draco’s mouth watered at the sight, even in his state of satiation. 

Harry raised the first donut to his lips. “Open wide,” he said, his free hand slipping down to Draco’s belly. As Draco took a huge bite, Harry’s hand stroked Draco’s middle, rubbing the skin gently and evenly, spending extra time at the bottom where it was stretched most taut. After a few moments, and donut number two was finished, his hand wandered south, teasingly. 

This continued until Draco, moaning from pain yet again, finished the last donut and collapsed back onto the bed against his mass of pillows. Smears of chocolate and creme had joined the other food that had collected around his mouth and on his shirt. The t-shirt, which had been merely tight at the beginning, had risen up higher and higher as the food had slid down Draco’s throat, until now, where his belly button was poking out. His sweatpants creaked precariously, the seams full to bursting with all of his girth. Draco’s breathing was slightly labored, and his cheeks were still flushed from the effort. 

“I’ve never...eaten...that much...in my...life,” Draco whispered, gasping between breaths. He adjusted himself against the pillows as best as he could, wincing a bit, closing his eyes. 

“Do you know what you look like?” Harry asked, letting his voice drop an octave as he regarded Draco’s messy, convex form. The steely glint in his eyes was something Draco had never seen before; it excited him, it frightened him, it intrigued him. 

“What do I look like?” Draco asked, his breath hitching in his throat. 

“You look like a pig. A hog, really,” Harry concluded, his voice still taking on an almost disinterested tone. 

“Your fault,” Draco murmured, his eyes now open again and on Harry intensely. Harry leaned over and, carefully, with some degree of difficulty, straddled Draco. Their bellies brushed, one gentle flabby middle caressing one that was tight and packed full. Harry kissed him roughly, licking off some of the remaining chocolate as he did so, and Draco leaned up as much as he could. Draco’s hands gripped Harry’s sides, digging into his lover’s soft lovehandles, reaching over occasionally to caress Harry’s belly. 

“You’re...so...fucking... _ hot _ ...Draco…” Harry said in short gasps between kisses. He broke apart briefly to whisper in his ear, “I want to fuck you through the mattress.” 

Draco buried his face into Harry’s shoulder, hiding a bright smile. “Would love nothing more than that, love, but I think...fuck, I think I’m too full for that.” 

Harry chuckled and nodded, rolled over off of Draco. Once he’d settled down beside him, he opened his arm and tugged Draco close, allowed his boyfriend to snuggle in tightly. Draco breathed a sigh of relief and closed his eyes, finally comfortable. Harry rubbed Draco’s belly lightly, until he poked the middle of it sharply.

A light frown creased Draco’s face, and Harry smirked a bit, remembering all of the times these roles had been reversed, when he’d been ready to pop and Draco had had his fun testing his, Harry’s, tummy. He gave Draco’s middle a testing jiggle, delighting at the fact that it was round and hard and rarely moved. 

“Oof, hey, love, watch it, okay? That was a lot you packed in there,” Draco said quietly, his eyes still closed, and Harry chuckled a little. 

“Okay, okay…” he reassured, resuming his soft stroking of Draco’s belly. “Do you want a potion to soothe your tum?” Harry asked softly. Draco nodded; ordinarily he would have been put off by soft words and belly rubs, but he was full and tired and frustrated that he was too full and tired to shag his boyfriend, so he allowed it. Another flick of Harry’s wand brought a potion inside, which he uncorked and gave to Draco, who drained it quickly. 

“Next time, not so much food maybe. Because I  _ desperately _ want to be fucked through the mattress,” Draco said wryly, his eyes still closed and even more comfortable as Harry rubbed him soothingly and the potion took effect. 

Harry chuckled again and nodded. “Mental note made,” he soothed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> omg hi everyone!! It's been such a long time since I updated this story. I kind of lost momentum with this story, couldn't see where it was going, and then started writing for another fandom (which I still write for) and this got lost by the wayside. But, like most people, I'm stuck inside right now and decided to try to revisit this! I'm sorry if this is a little rough, but it was just what I was feeling at the time. A little smutty, a little sweet :) Thank you so so much for reading and for the kind comments about this in my absence.


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